<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>I'm So Into You, But I'm Way Too Smart For You by HellKnightInShiningArmor</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142366">I'm So Into You, But I'm Way Too Smart For You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellKnightInShiningArmor/pseuds/HellKnightInShiningArmor'>HellKnightInShiningArmor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gordon Freeman Malevolent Moments [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Half-Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, a bit of homosexuality to quell the evil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:08:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellKnightInShiningArmor/pseuds/HellKnightInShiningArmor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Picture the two of us alone inside my golden submarine<br/>While up above the waves my doomsday squad ignites the atmosphere<br/>And all the fools who live their foolish lives may find it quite explosive<br/>But it won't mean half as much to me if I don't have you here"<br/>- Skullcrusher Mountain, Jonathan Coulton</p><p>Gordon pushes back his research to watch Gremlins 2 with a persistent guard.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gordon Freeman Malevolent Moments [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'm So Into You, But I'm Way Too Smart For You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I realized I hadn't written any Freehoun after seeing a drought in content in May. I guess I fixed it- sort of.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Friday night: the perfect night for Doctor Gordon Freeman to finally buckle into his true set of experiments while huddled in his pajamas under the clean fluorescents of his standard issue Black Mesa dorm.<br/>
As the work on his formal thesis progressed, the larger his pool of data for his passion project that utilized those Xen crystals in a much more inventive way than simply competing with the other major national research facility. All the cogs of his plans here were finally clicking in to place. Resting on the thin mat of carpet that constituted his living room floor with a clunky laptop on one knee and a stack of loose leaf paper on top of a downtrodden phone book for notes, he finally felt a strange sense of contentment that he wasn't aware that he had been chasing.</p><p>And then there was a sharp set of three knocks on his door.</p><p>Oh right.</p><p>Friday night: the night that emboldened lower level employees went gallivanting down the halls looking to rile up a big enough party to wreck havoc on the lone saloon a few miles away from the facility proper.</p><p>Whatever. The hole the computer's exhaust was burning into his bare leg was far more urgent than whoever thought he was simple enough to want to indulge in that senseless revelry.</p><p>There were two more soft, tentative knocks.</p><p>For the sake of pete, did he need to put a tie on the door or something? Didn't his fellow Black Mesa Employees understand that he didn't care about their miserable little lives inside of the office and there was no way he was investing in seeing pictures of their dumb kids off the clock either?</p><p>He shifted against in his nestled spot on the floor, papers scattered around him and blanket over hi</p><p>He padded up to the door, fumbled with the lock, and inched the door open enough to get a peak at whoever could be bothering him at a time like this.</p><p>"Good evening, Gordon!"</p><p>Doctor Freeman slammed the door closed without hesitation.</p><p>Why in the world was Barney Calhoun at his door?</p><p>Why did these things always happen to him? He was a decent fellow. Why did the universe always have to try to thwart his genius?</p><p>Okay, maybe he wasn't an outstanding citizen. He stole a little bit of company property, but from what he could tell, almost everyone did that. He was sure Kleiner had made a habit of conveniently misplacing the communal staples. It was expected of someone like him.</p><p>Okay, maybe he wasn't a good guy in the slightest because what he was piecing together could be used as a minor, teensy-weensy epicenter of an apocalyptic scenario centered around the use of xenoparasaites. He still deserved the dignity to do his research in comfort.</p><p>Maybe if he checked again, Calhoun would be swept away by the actual crowd the evening brought. He was an agreeable fellow. It was as plausible as anything else..</p><p>He inched the door a bit wider.</p><p>"I am sorry I didn't call you first. Dreadful etiquette, I'm sure. Your phone line was busy. If you need a minute, you can just..."</p><p>He closed the door again, a bit more softly this time. </p><p>Right, Calhoun was persistent. That was why they were "friends" in the first place.</p><p>Stupid dial-up internet gave him away too. The day that he saw that mediocre at best method of interconnectivity would be pure bliss.</p><p>Persistent wasn't quite the right word either. Calhoun didn't just keep trying to drag him into workplace nonsense discussing the mundane events of the town above and sitting next to him at lunch. Of course not. He had to look at Gordon with those big green and brown puppy eyes any time that there was even the thought of refusal. He had to escort Gordon back to his office, race him through the vents. It was like he wanted desperately to make time to spend together. He had no clue why. </p><p>He would have to entertain the guard, at least briefly. There went his prime hours of research. Oh, the sacrifices he made to make people just a little less afraid of him.</p><p>Well, seeing as that research would have to wait potentially for another week, there was no point in leaving it out. A quick shove under the couch worked for dorm inspection at MIT, and it would have to work for Barney. All he needed now was someway to effectively communicate how little he wanted this company, now and in perpetuity.</p><p>After a few sporadic minutes of searching a dorm that always felt bigger when he misplaced something, he emerged satisfied with his conversational supplemental and subpar clean up job. </p><p>He opened the door two-thirds of the way, enough to still mostly shield him, just in case.</p><p>"Y'know, Doc, I am almost getting the impression you don't want me here," Barney announced with a dopey, full mouth smile to show how light-hearted the remark was.</p><p>He wished that for Calhoun wasn't taking the chance to take a joke. Then again, if he had actually picked up on the hint that he was in no mood to entertain common security personnel, Freeman was certain that somebody would have replaced the sector c guard with the overly friendly and trusting disposition of a golden retriever. </p><p>Instead of following up on the remark, he extended his right arm to display the item he went to fetch, a yellow legal pad to better communicate. He had never pushed the point of getting his co-workers to sign. The headache of having to teach somebody basic communicative gestures would only provide more headaches trying to decipher the inane conversations they tried to hold with him. The writing got tiring for most people which then afforded him more solace during his working hours. It really was clever of him. </p><p>On the page he held out, in small, precise handwriting from a blue ink pen were four simple words: "Why are you here?"</p><p>After an agonizingly long pause in which he had to watch the guard flick over the same sentence three times, Calhoun finally replied, "You said something about a movie..." </p><p>He tilted his head with an expression he was sure made him look ten times more tired than he already was with this conversation.</p><p>"Well, you didn't actually say anything....you were there when me and the other lower shift guards were talking about movies. You did that little head tilt when a lightbulb goes off in your head when somebody mentioned Gremlins, and...."</p><p>Why had he stopped?</p><p>Was it the thin-lipped, neutral expression he was making as he listlessly waited for Calhoun to finish his sentence that caused the fuss? Why were people so intent into reading something from his facial expression if they were intent on continuing to waste his time with the barren sprouts of the desolate fields of their minds? So what if he was being a bit rude and impatient. At least he wasn't leeching away from the apex of scientific progress like seemingly everyone else at this facility.</p><p>He quickly circled his right wrist in a sort of welling motion that he found was much more effective in getting people to finish their senseless droning than any formal signing. It was greatly ironic that the motion mimicked the sign for happy or excited which he was far from as his cold green eyes studied the shorter man pensively occupying his doorway.</p><p>"I just figured most people hadn't seen the second one, outgrew the franchise or something like that. I can just leave the disk here if you're busy, Doc..."</p><p>This was something he hated more than the unneeded eyes on the hollows of his face. It was these social traps. On the surface, it seemed he had an easy out to put off Barney and his mind-rotting children's movie, but of course not. Nothing he ever wanted was easy or simple, and much like his other goals, he would have to step on somebody to get to them. If it was anybody but Barney, he would have slammed that door in a heartbeat with no regard for the social fallout.</p><p>It wasn't that he had a soft spot for Barney Calhoun. </p><p>No, it definitely couldn't be that....</p><p>It was that he couldn't exactly afford to lose Calhoun this far into his work contingent on access to Black Mesa.</p><p>Yes, it was just that and not the fact at all that he wanted to impress the guard, really impress him, just a little bit. It wasn't like there was this slight sense of social debt because Calhoun had relentlessly worked to carve out a spot for him in the weird office politics at Black Mesa. He was too smart for something like that. Right? </p><p>Reluctantly, he creaked open the door and waved him in. </p><p>"That's the spirit, Doc! You won't regret it!"</p><p>He already was regretting it, but he pulled a tight grimace of a smile to play along. No need to kick the man when he was already down.</p><p>Doctor Freeman settled on the end of a sagging futon that would bury his desired research to watch an over ten year out of date movie with a lowly security guard. This had to be above his paygrade.</p><p>"I take it you aren't a fan of Black Mesa dress code outside of the office, eh, Gordon?" Calhoun offered as he fiddled with the clunky dvd player at the head of the room.</p><p>He only rolled his eyes in response. It wasn't his fault that he had on admittedly skimpy set of Black Mesa branded running shorts and tank top. Calhoun wasn't even supposed to be here. If he was bothered by the view, he could go make himself somebody else's problem.</p><p>The bitter statement fled when Calhoun plopped onto the futon far too close to him. It was just his luck.</p><p>The opening started to play on the aging screen. Bright shots of an office labeled Clamp Corporation played across the screen. A cartoonish laboratory flashed into frame with a small, rodent-like creature with its strangely human hands reaching out of a cage. </p><p>Barney, sweet, stupid Barney, turned to him with a teasing grin and asked "Look familiar to you, Doc? Anything like what you and the lab boys get up to?"</p><p>He made a soft exhale, slightly amused at the irony of such a thought. If only Calhoun had any clue about his bigger plans.</p><p>At this rate, it might be the only laugh he got out of the evening.</p><p>Man, this movie was worse than he thought. </p><p>At least Barney looked happy. He was rather tolerable like this when he had all his focus. He got an interesting sparkle to his eyes that almost compensated for how sickly pale working down here had made him. The smile that brought out the peach fuzz he tried to pass off as five-o-clock shadow certainly helped too.</p><p>The movie ticked on at its barely tolerable pace. Who could get so invested in somebody destroying company property with a bunch of aliens? He couldn't see the appeal of such a franchise. He was certain he was going to pass out right then and there if there wasn't something creeping at the edge of his fingertips.</p><p>Calhoun was touching his hand. </p><p>Why was Calhoun touching his hand?</p><p>Oh right.</p><p>Friday night: the night when the facility was most quiet, the night when the typically frowned upon fraternization between Black Mesa employees became much more permissible between repaid beers and the mounting realization of isolation that set in deeper at the end of every work week in this place where progress and time played dead in the clay-rich earth.</p><p>He couldn't possibly have meant it like that...</p><p>And if he did?</p><p>And if Barney Calhoun was trying to get that close to him?</p><p>On one hand, the thought made his stomach turn. He didn't like the thought of ties to anyone. It complicated things like mass extinction and biological warfare biddings when you had to calculate the risk of people you cared about getting crushed under the weight of your ingenious plans.</p><p>On the other hand, getting a trusted guard as cover would have its perks. It would help lay the thought of loyalty with his current employers to make the wound of his ultimate betrayal all the more potent. Calhoun could be useful. He may not be cute, but he was certainly effective.</p><p>Gingerly, he shifted his wrist to lace his fingers between Barney's sturdier ones. There was a strange contentment in the warmth of the gesture, in the way Barney untensed, in the small twinge of a smile playing across his lips.</p><p>It was almost worth missing out on a night of research.</p><p>Almost.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>